


The Mop Bucket Incident

by Froggy1988



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggy1988/pseuds/Froggy1988
Summary: An incident with a mop bucket leads to romantic love makingA cassarian storyFeaturing artwork by Watazuki
Relationships: Cassandra/Varian (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	The Mop Bucket Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [watazuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watazuki/gifts).



> So this is inspired by a simply beautiful piece of art by Watazuki, who has very kindly let me use it in the story (it’s at the bottom, and you can find more stunning Cassarian artwork on her tumblr account), and a conversation coming up with innocent reasons for them to have forgotten to wear trousers (I think it was nerdasaurus who suggested a mop bucket incident). Obviously, because I am filthy minded I haven’t kept the idea completely innocent, experimented slightly in form, may or may not work. So here it is-
> 
> P.S. Sorry in advance for any mistakes, my brain is just soggy noodles at the moment.

Varian sighed, his maths was wrong, he could tell, though he wasn’t sure where exactly he’d gone wrong. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, almost dislodging the goggles that were resting on his head but managing to catch them just before they fell. He took a moment to rest his head in his hands. Tired, that was it, he told himself, he was just tired, but he knew that wasn’t the only reason his brain was failing to do reasonably simple calculations.

She had been gone a week, and he didn’t expect that she would be back for another three days. He could never concentrate on his work when she was absent. Strangely it used to be the other way round, that people would distract him from his work, but since he and Cassandra had moved into their little cottage and his days had started to follow a more socially normal pattern, he had to admit, he worked better. He’d hear her training in the field beside the barn where his lab was now situated, and although his brain would block out the sounds, somehow he was comforted knowing she was nearby.

He threw his pen across the barn frustratedly, disturbing Ruddiger from where he was taking a nap in a pile of loose hay. The Raccoon gave him a startled look and chirped at him.

“Sorry Buddy.” Varian sighed. “Nothing seems to be working today.”

The Racoon tilted his head to one side and sat patiently as if waiting for Varian to continue.

“Do you ever miss her when she’s gone?” He asked.

Ruddiger gave a slow but sure nod.

“It’s like I can’t cope with the emptiness, and the quietness, not like I used to.”

Ruddiger chirped and took a running jump up onto the table where he ran round Varian’s shoulder before jumping back down and heading out the open barn door.

“You’re right. Time for a break.” Varian said getting up and stretching. He pulled out a mop and bucket from the corner of his lab and headed to the well next to the house, He’d decided that if he couldn’t work the he could at least try and make the cottage look a little cleaner for when Cassandra came back. Ruddiger ran round his feet as he pulled the bucket up, and Varian stopped for a moment to let him take a drink of the well water before he disappeared again, probably in search of apples, or trouble.

As Varian decantated one bucket into the other he could hear the distinct sound of hooves coming along the road to the west of the cottage. Though his heart jumped at the sound, his head told him that it was just somebody travelling into the city. Cassandra wasn’t due back yet and wishing wouldn’t be enough to make her appear. He carried the bucket into the small cottage, rolled up the rug, and started mopping through the tiled downstairs area.

He didn’t hear, so much as sense the presence that was in the open doorway. He froze, always aware of their isolated position here beyond the walls, always aware that some people might still hold grudges. His hand reached for his belt where he kept an immobilising orb as he slowly turned to face the newcomer.

“Be careful not to drop that, the purple residue will ruin your nice clean floor.”  
  


“Cassandra!”

She was wearing her travelling clothes, apart from a fine layer of dust from the road, she looked identical to when she had left a week before. She smiled shyly for a moment, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Is everything alright?” Varian asked. “You’re back early.”  
  


“Everything’s fine. Just, negotiations took no time at all.”  
  


“Really? That’s not like Pittsford.”  
  


“I think Raps is melting them a little.” She smiled and bent down, pushing her boots off before she stepped onto the damp floor.

“Ha! Yeah, sounds about right.” Varian shook himself out of his shock at seeing her there. He was being awkward; he knew he was being awkward. It was like sometimes his mind still had trouble processing the fact that she was his wife, and not just the insanely hot lady in waiting that he’d had a crush on as a teenager. He closed the distance between them in a few short steps, his arm wrapping round the small of the back to pull her against him. Now close to her he could see the tiredness in her eyes, smell the mustiness of spending too much time on a horse. He smiled down at her.

“Hi.” He said with a smirk.

“Hi.” She replied before he kissed her soundly.

As he kissed her, he tried to hold back his desperation, keeping the kiss slow and languid, they had time he told himself. He reached for her neck, his fingers diving under the high fabric of her coat, till they touched familiar cool stone and pulled it loose. She never wore a ring, as she always chose to wear gloves and felt that it would be too restrictive, so this, his first love token, had become the symbol of their marriage, always on her, tucked away safely under her clothing close to her skin when she was away from him, even when asleep, even when in the bath, this firm reminder of the promises they had made to each other. He always felt the need to check it was still there when ever she returned to him.

He gently placed the necklace on top of her coat and his hands came to rest on either side of her face. He took a small step backwards forcing her to move as well, she caught on to his intentions and followed him as he moved her backwards towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Suddenly her body disappeared from his.

He opened his eyes blinking as he realized that Cass was no longer there. He looked down and saw a stunned looking Cassandra staring up at him. The confused look on her face soon turned into a look of annoyance. She’d tripped and fallen into the mop bucket.

He pursed his lips.

She glared at him.

“If you even dare laugh.”

“Not laughing, absolutely not laughing.”   
  


He held his hand out to her, she grasped it and he pulled her upwards, but the bucket was so tightly wedged onto her hips that it moved with her, making an unpleasant sloshing sound as she wrinkled her nose and fell backwards again. 

She frowned at him.

"You're laughing!" She accused.

"Nope I'm not. I'm smirking, smirking is not laughing."

He reached for her again, this time pressing the flat of his foot against the wooden bucket, holding it down whilst he pulled her upwards, and this time she came loose. Water spilled over the floor as she was dislodged, she lost her balance and fell heavily against. 

“Ooof.”  
  


“Argh.” Cassandra said, looking down at herself. “I’m soaking.”

“Well then, I think we need to get you out of those pants milady.”

Cassandra’s eyes snapped up to him, her eyebrows raised slightly, then her lips twitched into a small playful smirk.

He pushed the travelling cloak from her shoulders first, letting it drop onto the wet floor, it didn’t matter, not now, it was a consideration for another time. Then he reached under her shirt, his hands resting on the sodden material at her hips, he made quick work of the buttons and rolled the material down, bending to kneel on the floor as he did so. His face aligned with the creamy white flesh as it became revealed. She was wearing stockings that came to just above her knees, and Varian quickly touched them to find out if they were dry, they were. He considered removing them for a moment, but he liked something about the contrast between the black material and the creamy curve of her legs above it. He placed a gentle kiss where thigh meet stocking, then one an inch or so above it, the third higher still, but he stopped himself after the forth to help her disentangle the crumpled trousers from her ankles before she tripped. He figured a second trip into the bucket would end his plans for the afternoon.

A gentle hand on his shoulder was enough to bring him back to standing. Her hand snaked around to the back of his neck and pulled him into a rough kiss. He gave a small, delighted moan, letting her take the lead. Her tongue found his, her hands travelled downwards, sweeping his back, and giving a cheeky squeeze to his buttocks. He pulled away, reaching behind him for her wrists and brought them into view, where he proceeded to gently peel the gloves from her hands. She flinched back for a moment, an unconscious action. The dark and scarred hand often made people gasp and back away the first time they saw it, but it was only a moment before she was pulling the thick leather gloves off his own hands. Then her blackened hand was linking with his. They both stood for a moment looking at where their hands joined, long nimble fingers, softness and callouses, small scars and large cursed burn. Then their eyes met again, and lips soon followed eyes.

The need always rose quickly when she had been away. The need to find each other again through soft touches and soft words. For Varian it was a need to find himself back at home within her ever changing, ever beautiful body. To see her new experiences written on her skin, the bumps, bruises and scrapes, sometimes tired muscles caked in dirt, but he never cared, not when she had come back to him.

Her hands tugged at the waistband of his trousers.

“I think you got splashed too.”

“Yep.” Varian said against her lips. “Mmm..soaked...need to get out of these.” He said as she placed a line of kisses on his neck, her fingers wrapping in his hair.

Her hands made quick work of his belt, thumbs hooking into the fabric and pushing his trousers down until they came loose and dropped to the floor with a satisfying thud. He stepped out of them, never once taking his lips from hers. His hand travelled down, grabbing at the pliant and plump buttocks, pulling her close to him until his eager hardness brushed skin. He pulled away long enough to meet her eyes, she understood his intentions without any words, and as he tightened his grip on her she gave a little jump, her legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her in turn. Her fingers wrapped in his hair tugging gently to pull his head back and meet his lips with hers again, deep and hungry.

He carried her carefully to their room, regretfully pulling away to carefully watch where he was stepping as she buried her nose in the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses over the hollows and rises. Through the open doorway, finally they fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, and fabrics, and heavy breaths. She grabbed the googles from off his head, tossing them so they landed on the bed next to them. His hand reached between them, blindly pushing the fabric of her tunic up until his knuckles brushed bare skin, nothing between them, he lined his hips up with hers. He could feel her core, the slickness against him, he placed a kiss on her neck, on her jaw, finding her mouth as he sunk into her. He felt her instant reaction to him against his lips, the tilting back of her head, the pause and the soft groan of relief vibrating against them. Her fingers grasped at his shoulders, and he let out his own long held sigh, he never felt like she was truly home with him until they had completed this ritual of love making.

As he found a soft gentle rhythm her hands found a new place on his lower back, skin touching skin as they pushed up the winkled fabric of his shirt. He'd never tell her, the memory still hurt her too much, the way people's eyes travelled to it when she wasn't wearing gloves, but he liked the difference in the feel of her two hands on him. One soft, and always trailing lightly, the other with its burnt rough skin, somehow rougher in its actions. That was the hand that she always tightened around his shoulder when she begged him for more, the hand that dug it's fingernails into his back and left intentional red lines down his skin, that when they'd finish she'd trace with a snug smile on her face and place feather light kisses on. The two sides of her personality, the softness she showed to friends and the tough fighter she showed to enemies, always came out simultaneously in their love making. He accepted it, he accepted it all because she was truly his.

He felt her soft hand cup his face, and he met her green eyes, her soft smile. He'd drifted away from her and she was pulling him back, and he loved her for it, he loved her for every meaning behind every touch and kiss, behind every laugh laughed and every ham sandwich made. He’d never have guessed that his life could have contained something so precious, and so strong, as the love he felt for her.

Her arms wrapped round his neck, and he felt a little shiver run through her as she closed her eyes and let out a small sigh. It was a moment he knew so well, the moment he was always waiting for. She had relaxed totally within his embrace, as if she had stopped thinking and let the rest of the world disappear, her limbs softening , muscles loosening more as they draped around him, arms, legs, and that inner core, it was like a complete surrender, and it was when she was at her most beautiful. The lines of her body softening, her face more open, even when her eyes were closed.

It only lasted a minute or two, the soft stillness, it only ever did. Then she was filled with energy again. Her whole body seeming to clutch at him, pulling him closer, those muscles tightening again as she would lean up into him burying her head in his shoulder. He would meet that energy, every time. He grasped at her leg, pulling at her, trying to angle himself deeper, caught up now, trapped in the frantic building wave, the desperation, the need for more. He was aware of clothes clinging to damp bodies, the breaths coming out in wordless whispers of passion. Home, he was home in these familiar feeling, familiar patterns, and sounds. 

Her back arched below him, her fingers buried deep into his shoulder as her face nuzzled hard at his neck, he couldn’t stop, so close.

Her legs wrapped around him, a deep tremble ran through him, and he gritted his teeth against the pressure that was building in his groin, waiting, not able to let go yet.

She let out a breathy moan as her hips jerked involuntarily below his, and he gave a relived sigh as he buried himself into her for a final time, hands splayed on her back between her body and the bed, as he followed her into a mindless bliss.

His head was resting against the soft flesh of her breasts. His muscles trembled slightly in sated exhaustion, but she was there holding him, he could rest now, tonight for the first time in a week, he knew he would get a proper night’s sleep.

Her legs were still wrapped round him, neither of them caring about the slickness between them, too contented and comfortable to move. Her hand was twisting the striped section of his hair as he listened to her heartbeat below his ear slowly returning to normal and felt the slow rise and fall of each breath synchronising with his own.

"I missed you Cassie."

“I know. “

She placed a soft kiss on the skin between his brows. "I missed you too." 


End file.
